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King Dice wasn’t sure if he could pinpoint when it started, only that it was getting harder not to notice. Looks of mild discomfort had given way to annoyed “hm”s, and eventually to practically ignoring him with a look of disgust. Dice had tried his best to brush it off as nothing — after all, between managing the casino and organizing entertainment in Hell itself, he was a fairly busy die these days with barely any time to see his boss one-on-one anymore — but the longer it went on, there was no denying it: The Devil apparently didn’t want to talk to him anymore.
This was unfortunate and hurtful on its own, but what made it an actual problem was that he needed to periodically give his boss reports on what was happening in the casino while Big D was running a tight ship in the actual Underworld, so it wasn’t like they could actually avoid each other. What made it odd, however, was that the Devil’s mood shifted fairly drastically throughout the reports: he would grimace and refuse to say anything back when King Dice entered and started talking, only to follow the report itself with rapt attention, grin wickedly at any and all successful soul collections, and politely tell him to keep up the good work before sending him on his way — only to wince in distaste again when Dice bid his boss adieu.
He didn’t understand it. Being in an actual secure position in Hell’s hierarchy, with his own responsibilities and subordinates and everything, had granted him time to look back on his service and the clarity to see that he’d been lying to himself about how important he had actually been to the Devil personally, but he still genuinely thought they had been getting along fairly well compared to how they had been before the casino. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong; he’d hardly done anything different since the final days of the casino’s construction, after all. So what was it?
Fortunately (or not), he didn’t have to wonder about it for too long before he got his answer.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“Sounds like a plan. Keep the rubes coming, Dice.”
“See ya then, Boss.” Dice turned to leave.
An unusually low and guttural growl. “Okay, stop.”
Dice froze in place, then slowly turned back to look at his boss in surprise. An especially ugly grimace adorned the Devil’s face as he glared at the die.
“I mean it,” the Devil went on. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop. Calling me ‘Boss’.”
King Dice blinked in confusion. That’s what the issue was?
“Uhh… Can I ask why?” King Dice somehow found he understood the situation even less now.
The Devil gave him a stern look, fingers tented, but briefly glanced to the side as though to think of how best to phrase it. He ended up settling on: “It no longer seems appropriate.”
Dice stared at him, utterly baffled. How? Old Scratch had never had a problem with being addressed as “Boss” before. What changed? Worse yet, Dice knew himself well enough to know that he’d have trouble complying after calling his boss “Boss” for so long. At this point it was barely even a conscious decision; it was just a habit.
“Oh-kayyy….” He glanced around as though something in the office would tell him what was going on. All of the furniture here, however, was regular furniture; none of it sentient. “What should I call you, then?”
“Sir. Big Man. Big D. You can call me ‘master’ or ‘my lord’ or ‘Your Majesty’ if you’re feeling particularly subservient.”
King Dice frowned, irritated. Had he really had a crush on this guy just a few months ago?
But he knew better than to actually call his boss out on his behavior when he himself was just a mortal man who stood no chance against him. So, with a resigned sigh, Dice turned, waved back to his boss, and told him: “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Bo…”
He stopped himself and glanced back to see the Devil silently glaring at him.
“Big D?”
“I look forward to it,” the Devil responded with the smuggest smile Dice had ever seen anyone wear.
King Dice turned back and kept walking, straightening his suit jacket and fighting the urge to roll his eyes and gag. He couldn’t believe he’d actually wanted to date that dirtbag once upon a time. Worse yet, he couldn’t believe that being told he wasn’t allowed to call him “Boss” anymore actually hurt him emotionally. He really needed to get back to the casino. Take his mind off of things.
On his way out of the office, he passed by Henchman, who smiled cheerfully at him before addressing the Devil.
“Hiya, Boss! Got those files you wanted!”
“Excellent, Henchman!”
Dice stopped dead in his tracks. Not only had the Devil accepted being called “Boss” without hesitation coming from the chubby purple demon, he’d responded with joy and enthusiasm.
What the—? Okay, something’s up!
Without thinking, Dice turned around again and began, “Wai— How come he—?”
But he immediately got his answer before he could even finish the question. Right at the Devil’s desk, Old Scratch and his Henchman were sharing a tender kiss. Big D had his tail held high and his paw gently holding the shorter demon’s chin; Henchman was visibly smiling into the kiss, his own tail swishing back and forth happily. When they pulled apart, the Devil had the softest expression King Dice had ever seen him wear and Henchman was grinning ecstatically.
Then they went on talking about the files as though nothing unusual had happened. Well—aside from Henchman having fluttered himself into Old Scratch’s lap as though he were part of the ornate chair and the Devil having wrapped his arm around his lackey’s shoulder, smiling contentedly as they looked over the files together. Both of them seemed to have forgotten Dice was even there.
Dice stared for a few more seconds, not even registering whatever they were saying, before shaking himself back to attention and turning around to leave again. Once he was out the door, he saw an imp with a clipboard about to cross his path. Curiosity got the better of him and he tapped her on the shoulder.
“Hey, uh…” he began, only to trail off to try and remember if what he’d just witnessed had even been real.
She looked up at him expectantly and he decided to chance it.
“How long have those two been a thing?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.
She leaned around him to get a better look at where he was pointing, then turned her gaze back up to King Dice and answered: “A few weeks or so. Why?”
He blinked in surprise. Was that why the Devil had suddenly taken issue with Dice calling him “Boss”?
The imp was still looking at him and he remembered she’d asked him a question.
“Oh. I, uh… I just never noticed.”
She shrugged. “They really don’t try to hide it.” And with that, she went on to wherever she’d been headed before King Dice had stopped her.
Dice stared after her for a second before once again shaking himself back to attention, readjusting his jacket again, and heading for the exit. Once he got inside the elevator, he finally allowed himself to lean back with a sigh, tilting his head up. And here he’d thought he’d gotten over the Devil….
He grimaced as the elevator ding!ed to a stop in the casino. Now he really needed to find the Tipsy Troop. Or Chips. Or Wheezy. Or Pirouletta. Literally anyone to get drunk with and rant to.